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by blakeBird
Summary: Roy knew that he never had a chance. To make him keep going was simply cruel when he knew there was no hope in the first place. One choice was more painful for Edward, the boy he loved like a son. The other was more painful, excruciating for himself. There was no question about what he would choose, but that didn't mean he had the strength to do it. Parental!RoyEd.


GOD, you should see all the research I did for this project HOLY CRAP. Literally. I copied and pasted it onto this document and it was over a thousand words.

So this better be accurate or I'll cry.

You like Parental!RoyEd? Of course you do, why else would you be here? Check out some of my other stories, I've got several with that good dad Roy action and Ed being a smol helpless child. ReAd ThEm.

(My friend I'mThatAcroBat has a real nice Parental!RoyEd story going on, go check it out.)

shamelessly self-promotes*

On with the thing!

 **DISCLAIMER: THIS STORY CONTAINS GORE, DEATH, MATURE/DARK THEMES, AND OTHER HEAVY SUBJECTS. DO NOT READ THIS STORY IF YOU ARE SENSITIVE TO THESE TOPICS.**

xxx

"Are we... almo-st there?" His voice was only a breathy, raspy whisper that Roy was barely able to pick up from the one eardrum he had that wasn't blown.

 _We have several hours of traveling in front of us._

"Yeah. We're almost there, Fullmetal." Mustang gripped the cloth tighter, grunting as he made another tug on the material. It slid a good ten inches before came to a halt. The man gritted his teeth and pulled again, each tug earning a soft moan from Edward. Again, again, again. He was used to the rhythm by then. He had resorted to dragging Ed with an abandoned tarp. The young man was too heavy for Roy to carry on his own. Hell, the kid was taller than him _and_ had a prosthetic metal leg. That didn't exactly make things easy when he couldn't even walk on his own.

He looked back at the boy as he wiped the sweat off of his brow from the sweltering heat, worry plastered to his features. A blinding color caught Roy's eye against the dull desert sand: crimson. There was a trail of red in the divot the pair had left behind them. It wasn't anything new, Roy had noticed it when they had first set off... But this was more blood than before. Way too much. There was no way Edward was bleeding out again, right? He had checked the bandaging less than an hour ago. Glancing down, Roy revisited his own wounds, seeing that the makeshift bandages had held firm and they weren't opened again.

He didn't have it as bad off as Edward did, and Roy regretted that with every inch of his being. Why wasn't it him with a gaping hole in his chest and multiple gunshot wounds to the abdomen? Why wasn't he in so much pain that he couldn't even stand? All he had were a few through-and-through shots to the shoulder and leg and shrapnel grazes that made him dizzy from blood loss. But that was nothing to what Edward was going through. So he didn't feel it. He didn't let himself.

He didn't hesitate as he dropped the end of the tarp. He had to find out what was bleeding and stop it before the boy died of exsanguination. Not that that would happen. It wouldn't.

"How are you holding up?" Roy knelt next to the deathly pale blond, examining him. A swollen bruise around one of his eyes stood out drastically against his sheet-white skin.

Edward chuckled, which abruptly turned into a choking cough. He wiped his mouth, leaving a trail of blood on his back of his hand. His teeth were stained crimson, and the eighteen-year-old didn't even seem to notice. "Ju-st abou...t as well as... can be exp- expected," the young man slurred in a whisper.

Mustang felt his heart leap a bit. Had his lung been punctured? Why hadn't he seen that earlier? If he wasn't coughing up blood when he had first been injured, then that meant that the tear was small, right? Why had it taken so long to present itself?

"You can say that again." Roy forced himself to chuckle. He didn't want to scare his precious subordinate more than he had to. "I'm going to check your wounds again."

Ed nodded, looking up at the cloudless sky and bracing his jaw. He knew it was going to hurt.

Mustang started with the dirtied and bloodied bandage around the teen's chest, reaching over to unwrap it. By the time he got the first layer of gauze unwound he could see a large splotch of blood seeping through from the excessively-large shrapnel wound at the right side of his broad chest.

 _Shit._

Should he open it? Or would that cause it to bleed out more? He decided not to take off the gauze covering, knowing there was nothing he could do to stop the bleeding if it was taken off. Nothing he could do. He tucked the end of the bandage underneath the boy with shaky hands and tied it off, tighter than the last time. Edward winced and groaned, squirming in discomfort. Roy took his hands back, his hands already covered in his subordinate's blood.

"Sorry, kid." Roy moved down to his stomach, hoping he wouldn't see the same thing.

"'M no-t a... kid."

"Damn right." He should keep him talking. The shock and adrenaline had worn off, and now Roy wasn't sure if Ed would wake up again if he became unconscious. "You're taller than me now."

Edward couldn't bring himself to laugh as Roy peeled back the bandaging around his abdomen, praying that it wasn't bleeding out. It seemed that God was not in his favor. Splotches of bright red blood were seeping through the layers of gauze, each above a gunshot wound. There were three. Three shots to the stomach. How was he still alive..? Even above the panic of seeing so much blood pouring from the teen, he was confused. Those wouldn't have caused the trail of blood behind them, they were on top of him. What was bleeding then? He tied off the bandage and continued his search. Was it his back? Legs? HIs hands continued to shake as he inspected the boy, fear building. Had he missed something?

"I'm gonna have to turn you over, alright?"

Edward nodded and braced himself again. "I-I'm not dyin'... am-m I?"

"No. You're not dying." In the back of his mind, Roy knew that wasn't true. "On three." The man gripped Ed's uninjured side, supporting it with his hands. "One, two, three." He pulled up with his hands and pushed the body over as gently as he could, leaving Edward on his side. The boy screamed at the motion, his wounds aggravated. He lay panting, sweating, and limp as he faced away from Roy. Immidetly the raven-haired man could see what the problem was. His back was burned, most likely second-degree, and was actively bleeding. All of the small lacerations that he didn't think that he needed to bandage were dripping blood, running down towards the sand. He was covered in them, the small wounds, and there were far too many to properly treat. He was out of bandages and antiseptic.

The small wounds worried him more than the big ones.

They weren't bleeding before.

The blood wasn't clotting.

He was coagulopathic.

In other words, he was circling the drain.

A thought protruded from the back of his mind, a dark and twisted thought.

 _What if I have to leave the body?_

Roy yanked his hands back from the boy in front of him, panting. Just an hour ago he was confident that they would be able to make it. Now he was thinking about if he should carry the body back or not.

No. No, no, _no!_ They were going to make it back! Roy gently positioned the blond back on the tarp and picked up the end of it, pulling it across his shoulder.

"Just a little bit father, Fullmetal."

The boy nodded in response as he let his head lean back against the plastic-y fabric. Roy dug his heels against the desert sand, tugging the weight as he went. With each pull, though, Ed groaned in pain as he was jostled around. Pull, moan, pull, moan, pull, moan. Roy's heart sank. He knew what he had to do. He knew it. But he refused to acknowledge it and simply kept pulling. With every noise of discomfort from the boy, though, his resolve weakened.

Ed wasn't going to make it home.

There was no use torturing him.

Roy was about to drop the tarp in defeat when he saw a cluster of dead trees forty yards to the side of them. That was better than the alternative of staying in the sweltering sun to...

"There's some shade up there, Edward, so let's get there and take a break."

"S-Sounds like a... plan." He looked over his shoulder to see that the boy was shivering. In the one hundred and ten degree heat. He was shivering. His core body temperature had bottomed out. Mustang pulled the blond along with more urgency than he had before. Roy wanted Ed to make it there, at least. He didn't want Ed to die alone without someone there, by his side. He couldn't let that happen.

Soon, the pair had reached the tiny alcove of dead and withered branches, their only source of shade. Mustang pulled Edward up to the base of one of the trees, folding the tarp into a makeshift headrest. He looked worse than he had before. HIs skin was now bearing a yellow-ish tint instead of a pale white one. His kidneys were starting to fail. The wounds that riddled his body were actively bleeding, soaking the bandages with crimson. Roy sat down next to the young man, holding his own hands to stop himself from attempting to stop the bleeding which would only cause more unnecessary pain.

"Are we..," Edward breathed, his head turning towards the older man, "...h-home?" His golden eyes were unfocused, glazed.

"Yes." Roy reached out and took Ed's bloodstained hand in his own, eyes prickling with tears against his will. "You're home."

"Rea-lly?" The blond coughed and sputtered, blood leaking down his chin.

"Yes." Mustang wiped the red streak away. "Would I lie to you, Edward?" Something wet dripped down the man's face. Had it started to rain?

"No." The boy's eyes began to roll back into his head, and Roy shook his shoulders out of sheer panic and fear. He knew he shouldn't have. But he wasn't ready. It was selfish, so much so that it made the man sick to his stomach. He wasn't ready for Ed to die.

"No, Fullmetal, stay awake." Roy's voice shook, and he couldn't even find it in himself to care.

The boy's eyes focused once more, this time on Roy's face. His golden pupils still had a hint of fire in them. It was diminishing rapidly, but it was still there. His long, golden hair was dirty and matted, but it still held radiance. There still were some things that never changed after all.

"I kn-knew I was... home." Roy gipped his hand tighter, leaning in to hear the teen's light whisper. "It d-doesn't hurt anymore."

"That's right, Edward." Mustang forced a teary smile. "We made it." His heat ached and he yearned to simply hold the boy, sobbing. He couldn't handle this. There was no way he could. He didn't want Edward, his precious surrogate son, to die here... It wasn't fair. He wasn't supposed to die like this. He was supposed to be going home to his fiancee and his brother and he was supposed to tell them that he lived and that he was okay. He was supposed to get married and have kids and live his life, his long life. He wasn't supposed to be bleeding out, dirty and defeated on the foreign, desert sands. This wasn't supposed to happen! He was young! He deserved a life! He deserved to live! Roy gripped his hand even harder until he was concerned that he'd break it. Edward didn't even notice it.

"Look," Edward croaked, his voice dreamy. Roy followed his weak gaze into the sun-lit sky. "Loo-k at the... clouds." The man searched the sky. The cloudless sky.

"They're beautiful, Fullmetal." Roy's voice broke. He felt something wet on his knees and looked down to see blood pooling around his legs. His subordinate's blood. The blood that was vital for keeping him alive. Mustang looked away, anything to avoid seeing so much of that precious blood at once. He felt sick. There was no way this was happening, right? His face was covered in something wet. Was it really still raining?

Suddenly, he felt the boy stir beneath him. He looked to see that Ed's golden eyes were filled with tears, blood gathered at the corners of his mouth once more. "It's so bright," he whispered. He coughed, choking on the liquid seeping through his lungs. Blood splattered on the front of Roy's shirt. "We... made it, r-right?"

"Yes." Roy's eyes stung, and he felt wetness on his face. Was it really still raining? He felt so, so sick. This couldn't be happening. It wasn't happening...

"H-Hey," Ed rasped, "You're cry-crying." He looked concerned. Was he really worried about someone else other than himself at a time like this? Ed reached up and look Roy's chin weakly, tilting it to get a better look.

"I'm just so happy that we're home," the man choked, taking Ed's hand in his own. He gazed deeper into the teen's eyes and his entrails turned to ice. There was no life left. "I love you, Edward." He wished the rain would let up.

"L-Love you, too... Colonel. D-Didn't you... know th-at?"

A cry escaped the man's dry throat, grief clawing at his chest. "Of-Of course I did." This wasn't happening!

"I-I'm so tired." Edward's eyes fluttered, his head leaning to the side. It seemed that Roy couldn't see straight from the rain. It was so heavy. Mustang leaned forward and planted a kiss on the boy's forehead.

"Go to sleep, son." The man stroked his hand through the boy's hair, studying his living features for the last time. Slowly, his eyes glazed over. His body went limp. His hand dropped away from Roy's face.

He was gone.

Something clear dripped onto the boy's still face. Damn this rain!

Damn it...

Damn it!

Roy gripped the front of Ed's shirt, pressing his face into the boy's broad chest. He screamed into it. It felt like something was ripping into him, tearing apart his chest and his stomach and his limbs. It hurt excruciatingly, a pain that he had never felt with such burning intensity. Something was being torn away from him, something was being burned and seared away. So he screamed. He screamed from the pain of it.

Suddenly, he let go of the shirt. It hit him that he was holding onto a corpse. That was no longer his precious surrogate son. It was something that was dead. Lifeless. Deceased. Gone. Roy scrambled away from the body, leaning over and being violently sick into the sand. He felt so, so unbearably sick. This couldn't be happening.

Why was it still raining? He fell back into the sand, every inch of him on fire. He could feel his injuries again. His leg and shoulder ached and burned with an intensity that brought a moan to his lips. But it was nothing compared to the beast that was tearing apart from the inside. So he sat there in the desert sand, screaming and yelling for the monster to stop, _please stop,_ all while trying not to look at the corpse a few feet away from him.

He had never seen it rain so heavily in the desert.

xxx

You know, I wanted to say something funny here. But that's like, really inappropriate for the event that has just happened so I won't.

I was planning on this to just be a one-shot, but I kind of want to finish it now. I like the angst. What do you think? Should I continue? Let me know, thanks.

Anpanman~

Thank you for reading, have a nice day lovelies.


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